In 2016, I had a quiet crush on a coworker. I never expressed my feelings because I wasn’t sure if he was gay. Later, I found out he was—but I never believed he was interested in me. We joked around at work, sometimes flirted, but he openly showed interest in other coworkers, never me.
One day, he stopped me in the back hallway and asked, “Why are you nice to me?” I wasn’t brave enough to tell him the truth, so I simply said I admired his work ethic. He often put up a cold front, but everyone knew he was a genuinely decent guy underneath.
In 2019, while he was working late nights on a certification, I finally gathered the courage to leave a post-it note with my number on his belongings. I didn’t expect him to call—but he did.
I invited him over since I lived close to work. That night, he confessed that he liked me, but didn’t believe he could sustain a relationship. I was okay with that—I just wanted to spend time with him. At one point, I asked when his birthday was, and he asked mine. When I told him, he said quietly, “Dammit…”—it was the same day his mother had passed away. He hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye. I leaned my head on his shoulder and said nothing. Later, I drove him home.
The next night, he came over for dinner. As soon as he arrived, I sat him down, held his hands, and thanked him for sharing such a painful part of his life with me. I told him that while I couldn’t imagine the depth of his pain, I believed his mother would be proud of him. We ate, played around a bit, and as he was getting ready to leave, I couldn’t help myself—I leaned in. We kissed passionately. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life.
On another night, things became more intimate. I tried to give him pleasure, but he couldn’t finish. He lay on the floor afterward, naked, his arm draped over his face, and said, “I’m not sure why. You made me feel things…” After a while, he got up and we snuggled. I rested my head on his muscular, hairy chest, my hand gently caressing his sweaty back. He whispered, “I’m not sure why I couldn’t cum…” I said, “That’s okay.” Then he added, “Maybe because I like you too much…” I replied, “You shouldn’t have said that.” He asked, “Why?” I said, “You’re going to make me fall in love with you.”
He didn’t pull away. Instead, he said, “Uh oh, you said the L word,” but still held me close. I’ve been in love with him for the past 2 years.
He told me about his first relationship. He wasn’t quite ready for it, and his partner earned more money. During a vacation with his partner’s friends, someone asked if he was a gold digger. His partner, who had paid for the vacation, was silent. That moment deeply traumatized him.
I told him that maybe the reason he thought he could not sustain a relationship was because of that experience—it made it hard for him to trust others. He listened quietly, deep in thought.
He was a smoker, though I never smelled it on him or tasted it when we kissed. He asked if I’d want him to quit. I said I wouldn’t ask that of him—if he chose to quit, it should be for himself, not for me. He said "Dammit..." again.
I knew he didn’t want a relationship, and I accepted that. He was still active on Grindr, and I told him I didn’t mind—just to be safe.
He once said he didn’t like foot massages. I gave him one anyway—and he did not realized how good it felt. When I was massaging each of his foot, his other foot would be caressing my body, one of his signs of pleasure.
We went to a Christmas party together with mutual friends, all of whom were rooting for us. It was one of the best nights of my life. We snuggled together on the couch. One of the other girls snuggled with him while I got up and helped the host clean-up. When I came back, he told the girl, the space was reserved for me. While we were watching TV, he kept looking down at me, and kiss me on the head.
After the party, as I was dropping him off, he leaned in—partially drunk—and whispered, “I do love you.” Then we kissed goodnight.
What is the most memorable relationship that you had?
One day, he stopped me in the back hallway and asked, “Why are you nice to me?” I wasn’t brave enough to tell him the truth, so I simply said I admired his work ethic. He often put up a cold front, but everyone knew he was a genuinely decent guy underneath.
In 2019, while he was working late nights on a certification, I finally gathered the courage to leave a post-it note with my number on his belongings. I didn’t expect him to call—but he did.
I invited him over since I lived close to work. That night, he confessed that he liked me, but didn’t believe he could sustain a relationship. I was okay with that—I just wanted to spend time with him. At one point, I asked when his birthday was, and he asked mine. When I told him, he said quietly, “Dammit…”—it was the same day his mother had passed away. He hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye. I leaned my head on his shoulder and said nothing. Later, I drove him home.
The next night, he came over for dinner. As soon as he arrived, I sat him down, held his hands, and thanked him for sharing such a painful part of his life with me. I told him that while I couldn’t imagine the depth of his pain, I believed his mother would be proud of him. We ate, played around a bit, and as he was getting ready to leave, I couldn’t help myself—I leaned in. We kissed passionately. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life.
On another night, things became more intimate. I tried to give him pleasure, but he couldn’t finish. He lay on the floor afterward, naked, his arm draped over his face, and said, “I’m not sure why. You made me feel things…” After a while, he got up and we snuggled. I rested my head on his muscular, hairy chest, my hand gently caressing his sweaty back. He whispered, “I’m not sure why I couldn’t cum…” I said, “That’s okay.” Then he added, “Maybe because I like you too much…” I replied, “You shouldn’t have said that.” He asked, “Why?” I said, “You’re going to make me fall in love with you.”
He didn’t pull away. Instead, he said, “Uh oh, you said the L word,” but still held me close. I’ve been in love with him for the past 2 years.
He told me about his first relationship. He wasn’t quite ready for it, and his partner earned more money. During a vacation with his partner’s friends, someone asked if he was a gold digger. His partner, who had paid for the vacation, was silent. That moment deeply traumatized him.
I told him that maybe the reason he thought he could not sustain a relationship was because of that experience—it made it hard for him to trust others. He listened quietly, deep in thought.
He was a smoker, though I never smelled it on him or tasted it when we kissed. He asked if I’d want him to quit. I said I wouldn’t ask that of him—if he chose to quit, it should be for himself, not for me. He said "Dammit..." again.
I knew he didn’t want a relationship, and I accepted that. He was still active on Grindr, and I told him I didn’t mind—just to be safe.
He once said he didn’t like foot massages. I gave him one anyway—and he did not realized how good it felt. When I was massaging each of his foot, his other foot would be caressing my body, one of his signs of pleasure.
We went to a Christmas party together with mutual friends, all of whom were rooting for us. It was one of the best nights of my life. We snuggled together on the couch. One of the other girls snuggled with him while I got up and helped the host clean-up. When I came back, he told the girl, the space was reserved for me. While we were watching TV, he kept looking down at me, and kiss me on the head.
After the party, as I was dropping him off, he leaned in—partially drunk—and whispered, “I do love you.” Then we kissed goodnight.
What is the most memorable relationship that you had?
